


Waking Dream

by sanctuary_for_all



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur … was a different story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A week after she’d returned to Paris, Adriane’s share of the money Mr. Saito had promised them was transferred into the offshore account that had been set up for her. The information she wanted almost more, however, she had to gather in bits and pieces on her own.

Thankfully, Fischer’s decision to break up his father’s empire made international headlines. She read them all, from the sensational tabloids to the serious business articles, and in every public statement and interview the man’s dedication to the idea they’d planted never wavered. Even better, there was never a breath of suggestion that Fischer’s dreams had been tampered with, though there were several wildly creative conspiracies that tied back to Browning.

As for Cobb himself, there wasn’t a single article in even the Los Angeles papers about the fact that his charges had suddenly disappeared. She was pleased to discover, however, that Professor Miles was his father-in-law, and was more than happy to relate Cobb’s happy reunion with his children and his decision to leave the dream business for good. He had also been informed by Mr. Saito that everyone on the team had made it safely out of Los Angeles, which was all she’d needed to know as far as Eames and Yusuf were concerned.

Arthur … was a different story. Professor Miles knew nothing about where he had gone or what he might be doing, and when she’d worked up the courage to call Cobb all he’d known was that Arthur was somewhere in the Middle East. She told herself it was merely the lack of news that made him feel like such an absence in her life, an Arthur-shaped hole that had no more right to be there than the sadness she felt every time she couldn’t remember what she’d dreamt the night before.

When she did see him again, leaning against a pillar like he could comfortably spend the rest of the day there, her chest kicked with the breathless rush of being yanked out of a dream. “Another job?” she asked as she approached, voice as neutral as she could make it.

“No.” The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I had to … take care of a few things with a former employer, and now I’m stuck in something of an enforced vacation.”

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really?”

He lifted a shoulder. “With Dom out of the game I’m missing a partner, and thanks to our little venture I don’t need to rush the process of finding a replacement.”

Despite the months she’d told herself this was a safer life, a better one, every fiber of her being wanted him to ask her. She flatly refused, however, to say the words. “Out looking for recruits, then?”

“A friend, actually.” He straightened, hands still in his pockets. “I’m in Paris for a few days, and I was wondering if she might have some time between classes to show me the city.”

Joy hit, hard and sweet, and her fingers smoothed over the chess piece in her pocket. “Paris is pretty big,” she told him, eyes locked with his. “If we only have a few days, I need a better idea of what it is you’re looking for.”

The silence seemed to stretch on for a small eternity as they watched each other, then he let out a long breath. “More than a few days would be a bad idea,” he said quietly, jaw tightening. “Hell, _this_ is probably a bad idea.”

“Maybe.” She smiled. Sometimes, your heart told you all you needed to know. “But it’s worth a shot.”

He blinked, and in his eyes she could see the exact moment when he realized she was quoting him. Then he smiled, lips curved all the way upward in a startlingly beautiful expression that she instantly decided she needed to see again. “Shall we?” he asked, holding his elbow out to her.

She slid her arm through his. “Sounds good to me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur’s flight out of Paris, booked long before he’d come to find her, was in three days. Ariadne stole every moment of that time she could, skipping classes and making excuses to professors in exchange for Arthur detailing escape routes out of the Louvre and the expression a well-made cup of coffee could put on his face. She soaked in the warmth of his skin, memorized the touch of his fingers on her arm, and wondered more and more often if she should be testing her bishop.

Once, coming back to their table at a small café, she caught him rolling his dice across the smooth surface. She didn’t mention it, but the sight comforted her as little else could have.

They went out walking their last night, Ariadne pointing out design details in the nearby buildings as she wrestled with whether or not to abandon her pride and simply _ask_ to be his architect. She was afraid he would think she was just using him as a vehicle to get back into the dreams, but he was just as much a part of the addiction she’d tried so hard to ignore. She wanted to create, make skyscrapers rise and fold an entire city in on itself, and she wanted Arthur to be there both while she was under and after she opened her eyes.

She opened her mouth, but the words froze unspoken as Arthur stopped and turned to focus on the water. “Eames is working with a crew in Kiev,” he said quietly, not looking at her. “He mentioned they might need an architect.”

It was like the worst kind of wake-up, sharp and pointed as the knife Mal had shoved into her stomach so long ago. She stared at him, not quite believing he’d said it for a moment, then swallowed. “No.”

He turned then, eyes guarded as they met hers. “So you’re out of the game, then?”

Ariadne curled her fingers, amazed at how hurt she was. “Find your own way back to the hotel,” she snapped, the words cracking just a little as she turned around to escape to anyplace where Arthur wasn’t. 

His fingers on her arm, however, were enough to make her go still. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, moving close enough behind her that she could feel his breath against her hair.

She turned her head to look up at him. “Was that a test?”

He paused. “That was me being an idiot.” Carefully, he laid his hands against her shoulders. “You terrify me, sometimes.”

The hurt eased, the knot of anger around it loosening as she realized just how much it had cost him to admit that fact. “I know the feeling,” she said softly, shifting around so that she was facing him. “But I figure that if we survived inception, we can handle pretty much anything.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, but there was still a shadow in his eyes. “Always the optimist.”

She shook her head. “Only when I know you’re there.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, he bent down and touched his lips to hers. The kiss was deeper than the stolen one in the dream, sweet and warm and endless as a fall without the threat of gravity at the bottom. His hands found her shoulders again, sliding downward until they rested against the curve of her back, and her clenching hands made an absolute mess of his perfect three-piece suit.

When they broke apart, he didn’t let go of her. “I need a partner,” he breathed. “I may have mentioned that at one point.”

For once, Ariadne’s bishop wasn’t needed. If this was a dream, she had absolutely no interest in waking up. “I need half a semester to finish my degree.”

He raised an eyebrow, but she could see the smile that threatened. “And then?”

“Eames will have to be content with second best.” She stretched upward for another kiss. “Because I’m all yours.”


	3. Chapter 3

Privately, Arthur thought that Ariadne’s dreamscapes were the most beautiful he’d ever entered, a thought that seemed a little too foolishly romantic to ever give voice to. She had an artistic touch that Dom had lacked even during his best days, imbuing everything with a subtle vibrancy that made it pulse with an impossible-to-capture life.

Of course, he rarely had the opportunity to sit back and appreciate it.

 “Again,” Ariadne ordered, eyes narrowed at him as they stood in the middle of the Italian plaza she had created. He recognized a statue from their week in Rome the month before, but the architectural details were undoubtedly Venetian. “And something bigger this time. More dramatic.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, then exploded the Roman statue in a slowly expanding nimbus of stone fragments. “Better?”  

From the expression still on her face, the answer was clearly no. “You could take a building down, you know. It’s not like it would bother me.” Still, when a few of the projections walking by turned to look at him with suddenly intense interest, she sighed and closed her eyes tightly for about 30 seconds. He stayed still as she did so, watching her, and by the time she opened her eyes again the projections had lost interest. “Okay, one more time. And make more of a mess.”

Arthur had been deciding whether or not to ask exactly what she was trying for, but by this point he suspected he already knew the answer. “You can’t control your subconscious, Ari, even enough to keep it from attacking a foreign presence.” While he was surprisingly touched that she would attempt the impossible for his benefit, he didn’t want her exerting herself for nothing. “It’s basic fact that has nothing to do with talent.”

The glare was back, still more frustrated than actually angry. “I should be able to at least slow it _down_ , damn it,” she snapped. “I can build Mt. Everest in here.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. She’d never been willing to accept the simple explanations for the way the universe was supposed to work. As … interesting as that made his job sometimes, he would never wish that part of her gone. “Trying to make it so there’s less need for a point man?” he asked dryly, not bothering to hide the affection in his voice.  

Ariadne huffed out an exasperated breath. “No, and you know it. I just …” She sighed, lifting her hands as she hunted for the words that would explain what she was feeling. “It’s _you_. It just seems wrong that my subconscious doesn’t … recognize you somehow.”

His chest squeezed tight as he took a step towards her. “I know it’s not personal,” he said quietly, smoothing back an errant strand of her hair. “It’s a defense mechanism, just like the immune system.”

She laid her hands against his chest. “But it’s _you_ ,” she repeated, voice softer but still just as stubborn. “Love should matter more to the subconscious than it does anywhere else.”

The feeling that hit was sharp and breathless as a kick, but it dropped him into the dream instead of yanking him out of it. “Love?” he asked, voice rough with emotion.

 “Yes, love.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have a problem with that?”

 “No,” he breathed, sliding his arms around her waist to pull her close. She settled against him, warm as the heart of a flame, and he knew that she could reduce him to ashes and he wouldn’t have the slightest defense against it. She’d slid right past his walls from the very beginning, and all he could do now was hope that she never found her way back out again. “Since you made me fall in love with you, too, it’s really only fair.”

She slid her arms around his middle, holding on tightly enough to protect him from fire or a thousand angry projections. “Now we just need to get my subconscious to agree.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my original short fiction and weekly posts on my [blog](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


End file.
